


Flatmates

by francisbell557



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Insecure James Bond, Insecure Q (James Bond), LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Slow Burn, Trans Q (James Bond)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/francisbell557/pseuds/francisbell557
Summary: Q and James are flatmates in London, both attending university and trying to move on from painful pasts. At first, it seems impossible that they'll get along at all, let alone become something more than friends. But as time goes on, it starts to seem impossible that they could end up any other way.
Relationships: James Bond/Alec, James Bond/Q
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Flatmates

**Author's Note:**

> Well...this is definitely not my most inspired title (why are titles so hard?), but hopefully the content of the story passes muster! I found myself craving a university 00Q story and ended up writing this. There are definitely more chapters to come because I want to grow both the characters and then, you know, make them kiss a whole bunch. So...leave a comment if you feel like it, and I hope people enjoy this!

Q was the first to the flat - not that he was surprised. 

He had been in town long before the term was slated to start, having had nowhere else to go. The move from the youth hostel to university housing was a good deal shorter in distance and less time consuming than a move from a different part of the country.  As such, he found himself standing alone in the entrance of the empty flat - the very first home he could reasonably call his own - feeling...well, he wasn’t actually quite sure how he was feeling.

Leaving his single duffel just inside the door, he tentatively began nosing around. 

The kitchen, straight off the entryway, was small and functional but had a window overlooking a tiny courtyard. To the left of the kitchen, a narrow hallway with three doors - two leading to small bedrooms, each with a set of bookshelves built into the desk and a full-sized bed, and the third revealing a shared bath. 

Double-checking to make sure the bedrooms were roughly the same, he took the one closest to the bathroom and deposited his duffel inside before collapsing onto the bed. He took just enough time to crack the window to relieve the stuffiness of the room before he fell into a light, restless sleep. 

* * *

James stared at the door to his new flat as if it were the entrance to hell and he were stoically resigned to spending the rest of his life in its fiery depths. 

How different this was from his first day at the naval academy, when he had been so proud and excited he could barely contain himself. But then, everything was going to be different now, and he had no one to blame but himself.  He shoved his key in the lock, and was surprised to find that the door handle turned easily without it. He withdrew his key with a frown. Either the university had no interest in protecting its property, or he was living with someone as careless and undisciplined as he would expect from the typical uni student. Walking into the entryway and seeing lights flipped on haphazardly in the kitchen and bathroom, he suspected the latter. A thin annoyance layered onto his already foul disposition, and he slammed the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. 

A quick tour off the entryway revealed the kitchen, and the side hall had open doors to one bedroom and one bathroom. Feeling uncharitable and having no wish to meet his new, most likely immature, flatmate at the moment, he lugged his bag into the empty bedroom to sulk in peace. And if he closed that door too loudly as well, then his roommate could bloody well deal with it.

* * *

Q woke with a fright at the sound of a door opening and slamming shut. 

Taking a moment to orient himself in the darkness of the room, he realized first where he was and second that it had progressed from early day to early evening while he slept. He fumbled for the light on the bedside table and flipped it on just in time to hear another door, the one next to him, slam shut as well. He jumped again, nearly knocking the lamp off the table, heart rabbiting in his chest.  Lord, but he hated loud noises. That had been one thing he had been hoping to escape when he left his aunt and uncle’s house for the last time. Slamming, shouting, breaking - noises of violence and unspoken disappointments. He hadn’t assumed that uni would be  _ silent, _ but he had filled out on the form they sent him that he liked to keep quiet and to himself.  _ What was the point of collecting a form if they weren’t going to take that information into account? _ he thought indignantly. 

He realized after a moment that his hand was still frozen on the lamp switch and that his body had gone completely still as well. He shook his head as if to shake himself out of a trance, feeling frustrated. He wasn’t going to live like that anymore! He had promised himself that before he arrived and he was going to make good on that promise. Besides, the chances that his new flatmate was  _ angry _ already were near zero. He was probably just a bit careless, and if Q asked nicely, the flatmate would most likely apologize and try not to slam doors in the future. It was a reasonable request, surely? 

Feeling bolstered by his logic, Q summoned his courage and left his room. He would just knock, say hello, and see with his own eyes that his roommate was in no way expressing feelings of aggression or anger, and the problem would be solved. Maybe the new flatmate would even want to talk to Q more, and had just been too shy to come say hello first. They could go out for a pint, and Q would have made his first friend. The thought encouraged him even more, and it was with perhaps too much enthusiasm that he knocked on the other bedroom door. 

* * *

James took a deep, grounding breath and held it as he listened to light footsteps in the hall pause outside his door.  _ Don’t knock, _ he willed in his mind, still simmering in his ghoulish thoughts of irritation and self-loathing.  _ Don’t… _

An overager knock, barely reigned in on the last thump, had him releasing the grounding breath through his teeth in a decidedly un-grounding way. He lay still on the bed, hoping his flatmate would get the hint and move on. Maybe they’d go out for the evening and James would be free to mope his way into the kitchen, just for a change of scenery. No such luck, though, as a timid but determined voice called out, “Er, hello?”. 

The mattress creaked as James heaved himself up and lurched to the door, swinging it open and revealing a wide-eyed boy with a hand raised to knock again. 

James’ eyes widened at the unexpected proximity and the unexpected sight before him. Christ, the boy looked young - much younger than James had looked at 18, he was sure. But then, James supposed he was the odd one here, starting uni as a 22-year old. Maybe to his flatmate he looked ancient. He certainly felt it, he thought wryly. 

The flatmate was tall, and made to seem even taller by the gangly proportions of his body. His hair was thick, black, and sat upon his head almost like a helmet, and the green of his eyes was highlighted both by his hair and the equally thick, black frames sitting fastidiously high on his nose. A light blush was already dusting the boy’s high cheekbones as the silence between them grew, both still with eyes locked. Then, the boy held out his hand, and in a voice that struck an unanticipated, long unplayed chord in James’ ears, said “Er, right. Hello, I’m Q.” 

Upon hearing Q speak, James felt as if he had been simultaneously doused in cold water and lit on fire from within. Feeling overcome in a way that was horrifyingly familiar, James stared down at the hand, then back up at Q, his wide eyes narrowing in a stony glare. Before Q could say anything more and without consciously meaning to, James had stepped back into his room and slammed the door shut, ignoring the brief glimpse he had of Q as he jumped back out of the way. 

* * *

Q’s back hit the wall with a thump that drove the air out of his lungs. 

_ Oh no, _ he thought with dread.  _ No, this can’t be happening. What  _ is _ happening? _ How was it possible? How could his roommate hate him already? They hadn’t even met yet! Or maybe it had nothing to do with Q, and his roommate was just a volatile person in general. But was that really better? Panicked thoughts raced through Q’s mind as he stared at the closed door in bewilderment. Louder than the rest, though, was one singular thread thumping through his brain: he couldn’t spend another four years tiptoeing around, hoping not to attract attention. For one, the flat was much too small for that. And for another, Q was fucked up, but not so fucked up that he thought that it was normal to be scared in your own home. Those days were over; he knew better now. 

Still, it was one thing to know how life should be and another to be confronted with a reality set in front of you. Nauseous from anxiety and the poor nap and the abrupt awakening from said poor nap, Q felt one of his least favorite stress responses rear its ugly head. With a groan, he rushed to the toilet, barely having time to shove the door part-way closed before he vomited up the meager contents of his stomach. _So much for friends_ _ , _ he thought in resigned disbelief as he rested his head on the porcelain. 

* * *

James stood with his back braced against the door as if expecting Q to try and break it down. His chest was heaving, he realized, and a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. Of all the things he imagined he’d feel when faced with his new flatmate - mild disinterest, irreconcilable incompatibility, haughty condescension - the one thing he had not anticipated was  _ attraction _ . 

It felt cruel, impossibly cruel, that after...everything...he be confronted immediately with an instant, irrational, and shockingly intense interest in a person he would have to see every single day for the next year. It was his last year at the naval academy all over again. It was a nightmare. 

It was...perhaps not as bad as he had immediately thought? 

As he got control over himself in the privacy of his room, he started to feel foolish, and embarrassed at his behavior. At the very least, Q held no fault in this, and James had acted - yes, on instinct - but appallingly all the same. He could imagine Alec’s face, the disappointment  _ and _ the understanding. It was a look that James had received when he acted in a way that he knew he shouldn’t, lashing out in an effort to protect himself. Usually, that look was followed by Alec’s patient voice, chiding and encouraging him in equal parts to be better. But Alec wasn’t here now - only James.  And only James could move forwards with his life. He’d spent enough time mourning and longing for the past. 

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he turned and set his shoulders. He had lost control of so many things in the last year, but there were still things he could do. Things where his intention mattered and trying was worth it. He could try again.

He _would_ try again.

* * *

Q was in the process of giving one final, half-hearted retch when he heard James’ door open again. His clammy cheeks flamed in mortification as he realized that the door to the bathroom wasn’t closed all the way and that James could probably hear him. Spitting one last time and standing on shaky legs, Q tried to ignore the fact that James was standing just outside. He flushed the toilet and swilled some water to wash the rancid taste out of his mouth, looked in the mirror, and stepped out warily. The two flatmates stared at one another again.

“Sorry?” Q preemptively apologized in case there was another infraction he had committed without being aware. His voice, though, was muddled as James spoke at the same time.

“Sorry - wait, what? What are you sorry for?” James asked confusedly. 

“I...I don’t know,” Q shrugged. “It just seemed the thing to say.”

James still looked thrown by Q’s apology, and shuffled his feet for a moment before gathering himself. He straightened his back and settled into a decidedly, and worryingly, militaristic posture. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier,” he said stiffly. “It was horrible, and I don’t know what got into me. Could we possibly start over?”

Q looked equally thrown by the turn in conversation and blinked twice, expression flickering between suspicion and curiosity. Finally, something settled in him, and he extended his hand once more to James.

“Alright. I’m Q. And I would appreciate it if you could keep from slamming doors in the future.” The last part was blurted, as if Q had had to rush the words out or not say them at all. 

James felt a rush of relief mingled with another bout of guilt for his previous behavior. And he had assumed his flatmate would be the immature child, he thought with shame. But, he continued on all the same, hoping to salvage the remains of a bad start.  “Nice to meet you, Q. I’m James, and I promise to open and close the doors with reasonable application of force in the future.” 

Q flushed deeply, and James was immensely gratified to see a tentative but pleased smile blossomed on his face. 

“Thank you, James." Q paused, weighing his next words. "Erm, you wouldn't happen to be interested in grabbing a pint, would you?” 


End file.
